Whatever Will Be, Will Be
by Dawesy
Summary: It's the day before the final mission and Molly can't sleep again, She finds herself having a late night conversation with the Captain. One shot. Rated for mild language.


**Whatever Will Be, Will Be.**

She perched on the roof of the bogs once again, as she'd been doing more frequently in the past week since the "green on green" at the checkpoint. It was kind of hard to shake the image of "Rolex boy" laying spread eagled on the floor with his brains blown out. She was even more aware that if she wasn't careful in the coming days, that could be her – her head with a bullet through it if the Taliban have their way – or worse. It could be members of her own section, dead because of a grudge Bashira's father held against her. Her and her inability to "not get involved".

She couldn't let herself linger on that thought. She was going to make it out of Afghan alive – her and the boys. She had to have hope, the West Ham t shirt she wore attesting to that thought. God knows they needed some hope every now and again, or at the very least a little dose of Lady Luck to get them through. Lady Luck had helped them out a lot recently: when Smurf walked himself into a minefield and escaped with a relatively minor injury, well he still had both his legs, put it like that, she thought. And when Bashira had walked into the clearing, bomb strapped to her chest. Each and every one of them had made it out unscathed that day. Yes, Lady Luck had done her share. Molly only hoped that the luck hadn't run out now.

With thoughts of today's mission and all of them returning safe still running through her mind, Molly stood up slowly, stretching as she did so. She hadn't quite realised how long she'd been sat there lingering on her thoughts until she did that; her bum aching along with many of her muscles. She clambered down the side of the building and made her way back to her tent, figuring at the very least she should pretend to have had a decent night's sleep when the rest of the section get up in two hours ready for the day's mission.

It was currently 3AM and there wasn't many people around at this time, only the soldiers on night patrol around the perimeters and up in the turrets watching for approaching threats were visible to her. The only sound keeping her company as she walked was that of her bare feet slapping against the sand as she walked, a cloud of dust forming in her wake. She slowed as she approached the Captain's tent, wondering what he sounded like when he slept. She would have bet any money on him being a snorer but she'd have to find out another time. The only thing she could hear coming from the confines of the canvas walls was a rustling of papers and a slight creak of the mattress as he shifted about. She set off on her pace again in order to reach her bed before the Boss Man knew she'd been lingering.

"Dawes?" a faint voice called just as she'd reached the entrance to the tent. She carried on and climbed into bed, just pulling her bare legs out of sight beneath the covers as he stuck his head around the door to quarters. His eyes focused directly on her as she looked up to meet his stare. He beckoned her with a quick sideways flick of his head, only moving when she started to rise again from beneath her blanket. He headed off back to his own personal quarters, her tailing not far behind him.

"I knew it was you. Only Molly Dawes would have the mordacity to wear a West Ham shirt at all, let alone here." Captain James chuckled as he plonked himself back down on the edge of his bed, seemingly where he'd previously been perched with the scattered papers still laid out in a slapdash manner on the bed.

"Well, if I knew what that meant, I might gonna agree with you, Sir, but I don't have a bloody clue." Molly sighed in response before lowering herself on the floor beside his legs. The Captain didn't answer, he just looked down at the young Soldier on his floor. His attention was caught, not by the long creamy legs stretched out in front of her but the "little girl lost" look she was wearing on her face.

"Sir, can I tell you something?" Molly asked, biting her lip precariously as she did so.  
"You know you can." He replied, expecting an explanation for the look of sadness she seemed to be wearing.

"When I first met you, I called you a Rupert." She laughed at the memory, just as awkward in her mind as it was on the day when she found out about Smurf's brother and the resultant loyalty Smurf had harvested for the Captain.  
"Don't worry about it, Dawesy, I was all set for sending you home on Day one." He answered smoothly. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, the echo of the laugh still lingering on the corners of her mouth. "First impressions, eh, Boss man?"

He smiled back down at her, "I don't know Dawesy, sometimes I still think about it, on accounts of you've still not mastered the art of doing what you're bloody told." The wiggle of his eyebrows told Molly he was still joking around with her and she bumped her shoulder firmly against his legs laughing. "Now, you going to tell me what's keeping you up then, Medic? Because I saw you walk passed my quarters at half past twelve and you've not long come back." The Captain asked, absentmindedly picking up and twirling around his fingers a strand of Molly's hair which was down in chocolate waves around her shoulders.  
"I don't know, Sir, it's just..Afghan." She said with a shrug. He let go of her hair and lowered himself on the floor beside her, shoulder to shoulder. He picked up her hand and held it in his, his thumb stroking the back of her hand, urging her to carry on. "You know, the Taliban wanting Sohail to kill me – I'm pretty much on their hit list – so that means you and the rest of the section might gonna be on it too and its all my fault because you told me not to get involved but I did and here we are. I'm just scared that something bad's gonna happen when we're on the mission today, Sir and…" He silenced her, locking his lips on hers for the briefest of moments. He'd let go of her hand and clasped either side of her face delicately, running his thumb up and down her cheek in a mild attempt to calm her  
"Well Dawesy, as a wise woman once told me: que se ra, se ra, whatever will be, will be." He murmured to her, his breath warming her.

"You know what, Sir? Me Nan used to sing that song." He grinned at her and released her face before standing himself up and pulling her up with him.  
"Right then, Dawesy, you can either go and get yourself dressed and covered or you can come and wake these cockwombles up with me." Captain James said as he glanced at the time. Molly only sniggered in response.  
"And what are you laughing at, Medic?" he asks raising an eyebrow with a smile twitching at his lips.  
"Cockwombles, Sir." She giggles before pushing him out the tent to wake the rest of 2 Section.


End file.
